


Tangible

by LittleSammy



Category: NCIS
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-04-22
Updated: 2012-04-22
Packaged: 2017-11-04 02:22:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,902
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/388635
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LittleSammy/pseuds/LittleSammy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Senses can play tricks on her. They can distract her. They can make her head spin. They can make her do foolish things. Luckily, she's doing them with another fool.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Tangible

**Author's Note:**

> Starts during the end of "Dead Air", so yes, spoilers for that episode. And for the sake of this experiment, certain parts of the episode after it will not happen. You'll know which ones I mean.

Tactile sensations have always been a strong trigger for Ziva. Scent is worse, of course, especially when it comes to the scents that surround the unspoken summer. Those always, always send her straight back to that place for a heartbeat, no detours, no scenic route. For the single moment a certain scent sets her off, she remembers it all, and what's worse, she feels it all, too.

Ziva has worked hard on getting this under control during the past year. She has made a lot of progress, too, especially when it comes to not showing how much certain things affect her sometimes. But she is very aware of the fact that she will have those moments for long years to come. Scent really is that strong.

Touch, though, is slightly different. Touch makes her remember things, moments, too. But for some reason, tactile sensations - at least the ones that distract her and bring up memories - take her to a time before that summer. To a time when touch was a normal thing to do between them. To a time when Ziva had the habit of touching her partner regularly, repeatedly, with leisure and without ever censoring herself.

So when she tackles him and the force of the explosion throws them both to the ground, she zones out for a moment on the way his arms come up to protect her head and how he tries to cover her even though she's the one who is mostly on top.

He's breathing hard into her ear and she can't blame him. Her own pulse is pounding in a staccato rhythm and it even drowns out the ringing that reverberates inside her from the detonation. She turns her head to look at him and check if he's okay, and just then he rolls to his back and she can't help but follow the movement.

He's warm and solid underneath her and it surprises her slightly just how good that feels. His hand is low on her back, fingers spread against the small of it, and she watches him blink and trying to focus. Ziva knows she should get up now but for some reason she can't help it and stays down for just a little while longer, molded to him in a way that hasn't happened in a long, long time. And because she stays down, she suddenly feels his body react to her closeness before he notices it himself. 

She's stunned and slightly breathless and even a bit giddy because she has almost forgotten how it feels to be wanted by him. But now touch reminds her, reminds her intimately, and a dozen good memories rush through her all at once. Her fingers flex against his side while she fights the sudden temptation to run her hands over him just for the sake of more touch. Because that would take things too far and to a level it has never reached before, and so she turns the desire to cling to him into a soft teasing that is mostly familiar and makes him pull a face.

"That's just my knee," he presses out, and she can tell the strained words hurt his throat. 

His hand stays on her back though, even while he waits for her to get up. And maybe it's just his cologne or his warm breath on her face or the way he feels so eerily familiar, pressed up tight against her. Or maybe it's the rough scratch of his voice that deepens her smile and keeps her right where she is.

He rolls his eyes at the way she slides her thigh between his in a mock challenge now, and while she grins and dares him, he finally lets go of her and smacks her butt. Hard.

Ziva yelps and tries to keep her own knee to herself while he rolls her off his chest and gets to his feet with a grunt. She laughs and stares at the hand he extends towards her, offering to help her up. 

Of course she doesn't need the help. But just when she is about to ignore the gesture, a tentative little voice offers the suggestion that taking his hand would mean more touching. And so, because Ziva has never been one to waste an opportunity, she accepts after all.

*** *** ***

A second episode comes and goes while she helps him put the finishing touches to his report. She's standing behind him at his desk and watches him type, and at one point, while she waits for his fingers to make their painfully slow journey across the keyboard, she leans forward and rests her hand on his back, right between his shoulder blades.

She doesn't even notice it at first, but suddenly his muscles flex against her palm and she is assaulted by too many memories just like this one, flashing through her mind like a mad tactile slideshow. She suddenly remembers how normal it was to be this close to him, to touch him without thinking twice about it, without a deeper meaning to it other than... well, liking it.

She presses her palm harder to his back out of reflex, basking in the feel of him against her skin, and that makes him stop moving altogether. When she turns her head, she finds him staring at her, curiosity in his eyes. He knows something is off, but for now he just watches her and waits if she wants to talk. Apparently she wasn't out of it enough to trigger an actual question from him.

"If you keep typing at this speed we will still be here for breakfast," she says and her voice sounds almost normal. It has the desired effect - he rolls his eyes at her and turns back towards the screen.

*** *** ***

She feels Tony's eyes on her again while she secures the knives once more in their storage box, and she's glad that he keeps blissfully silent. She isn't quite sure yet how today's episode made her feel.

The one thing she knows is that it was far from familiar. That it was like literally going undercover and that she had to make up most of what she did because she just didn't feel like _that_ Ziva anymore. Right now, she's not sure how she could have ever felt like her.

She stares at her blades for longer than feels prudent. She doesn't really miss the old Ziva. Well, most of her, anyway. Old Ziva was a little more sure of herself than the new one is. Old Ziva wouldn't have given a second thought about touching Tony. She probably wouldn't even have noticed.

Ziva blinks, and after another quiet moment she takes one knife back out, the one that was her favorite in the old days. Tony's eyes are still glued to her while she raises her jacket to tuck the blade into her belt.

*** *** ***

By now she has learned how to get over her trigger episodes pretty fast. Dealing with the not-so-good stuff was part of her training from very early on, after all, and so she is - most of the time - easily able to push the flashbacks aside right after they happen.

But for some reason the sensation of Tony underneath her hand lingers and refuses to leave her. Her palm itches with the phantom feel of his back for the rest of the day, and she feels herself getting restless and itchy soon. 

Tony keeps shooting her glances that get more and more curious throughout the day, and she is insanely relieved when she can finally log off and flee his inquisitive gaze.

*** *** ***

She's running two miles more than she usually does and she feels completely drained afterwards, but it still doesn't help to clear her thoughts. Her mind still keeps mixing up past and present and future tense.

She's not all that surprised to find Tony on her doorstep when she comes home, a few DVDs and a couple of roast beef sandwiches in tow.

*** *** ***

He's popping in the first DVD and gets plates and glasses out while she's in the shower, and she tries not to think about how... _domestic_ this is.

It's confuses her how much of an effort it is to leave the bathroom and face her partner. Her palm itches again.

*** *** ***

He keeps staring at her out of the corner of his eye and she pretends not to notice at first. It's not that hard while they are busy with taking care of the sandwiches, but once both their plates are empty she has only the movie to concentrate on and that's not enough. His quick sideways glances unnerve her, and it doesn't take all that long before her temper and her restlessness get the better of her and she snaps.

"What is it?" she presses out through her teeth, scowling at him, and it gives her a perverse pleasure to see him jump guiltily.

"Nothing," he lies, then promptly glances at her again, and Ziva snorts and turns towards him.

She can't help the glare. It never failed to work with him before, and it certainly doesn't fail now - sort of. He doesn't really fold and he doesn't seem intimidated this time. There's just the same curiosity written all over his face again that has been following her around for the whole day.

"What's up with you, Ziva?" he rasps, and it surprises her that this time she actually feels caught and embarrassed and her face is flushed all of a sudden.

"Nothing," she lies, and this time it's Tony who snorts, turns to face her on the couch and mimics her glare. To her surprise he is rather good at that, and soon she blinks and then looks back at the TV screen without taking in anything that happens there.

And this time Tony doesn't give in the slightest bit. He knows his hunch was right now and so he keeps on pushing, of course. He keeps staring at her, silently, and after a while she meets his questioning eyes with a sigh.

"It's nothing," she repeats and rubs her forehead to soothe away the first traces of a headache. Maybe that's why she gets careless and adds, "Today just reminded me of how things used to be."

His eyes widen a bit. He looks slightly surprised, but she isn't sure if he's stumped by the wording of her answer or the fact that there was an answer at all. At least he's too confused now to mock her, which she supposes is a plus.

"Used to be?" he echoes, then frowns and adds, "When exactly?"

She opens her mouth to answer him and then closes it again because she's suddenly not sure what to say. She tries to remember when the last time was that they behaved normally around each other, and she can't come up with an answer. Before last summer? Before Michael? Before Jeanne?

It's frustrating to her that she can't pinpoint an exact moment to illustrate her point. She isn't even sure there was just one such moment. All she knows for certain is that things really were different then.

"I think I just miss touching you," she suddenly blurts out, and when his eyes widen even more she suddenly freezes because it's a shock to her that she has said that one out loud. Her cheeks burn with heat and she turns her head and stares at the TV now with every ounce of willpower she has.

He's silent for the whole car chase scene, and Ziva gets nervous soon. Her hands clench and unclench a few times while she waits for his reaction, and she wants to tell herself to stop fussing about it but she can't, really.

"We touch all the time," he says eventually, his tone of voice carefully neutral, and she knows he's thinking furiously now.

" _You_ do," she says, and the moment the words are tumbling out she wants to clamp her hand over her traitorous mouth to stop it from spilling secrets she didn't even know she had. She desperately longs for a rewind button for the remote that controls her life, just to go back a few minutes and say something different that will make him concentrate on that boring car chase flick he brought along. But that isn't possible, and so she sighs and lets her head fall back against the couch, closing her eyes. "Can we move on? Please?"

He doesn't reply but she also doesn't feel him shift beside her to turn towards the TV. So he's still staring at her. She sighs again and rubs the space between her eyebrows hard with the tip of her middle finger. Stupid headache. 

"Tony--"

"You're right," he interrupts her.

Her eyes snap open and she finds herself staring at the ceiling while her pulse suddenly pounds hard in her throat.

"I know I am," she tries to go for flippant and her voice only shakes a little. "What about exactly?"

She lets her head loll to the side so she can look at him but this time it's Tony who avoids her eyes, and that makes her frown.

"I miss it, too." His voice is so quiet that she almost doesn't get it, and part of her wishes she hadn't.

And that's the point where Ziva can't stand having him right beside her anymore and runs. She jumps to her feet, picks up the empty plates and flees into the kitchen. Her heart is still going a hundred miles a minute and while she puts the dishes into the sink, she suddenly wants to run farther and faster because she's not sure she can take what's about to come once she goes back to the living room, back to facing Tony. But she can't and for now the kitchen will have to do.

He's right behind her when she turns, and he makes a soft _oof!_ sound as she bumps into his chest. She flinches, disturbed that she was so out of it that she didn't even hear him come close, and while his hands come up to her shoulders to steady her, she has to fight her own reflexes that demand of her to shove him away. She doesn't because he has done nothing to harm her, but it is a close call and her hands still end up on his chest. And for the third time today the feeling of his muscles against her palm makes her zone out on the sensation.

"Ziva?" he says, as softly as he can with his sore throat, and there's that damn curiosity again that drives her mad. He wants to know what's going on, even when he's not sure he can handle it, because that's just the way Tony's mind works, nosy, nosy, and one day that will be the end of him if he isn't careful...

She feels herself move suddenly and to her horror she's not able to stop the motion. Her hands slide higher up his chest, and his muscles suddenly give a hard twitch, just before he moves into the touch. She breathes out slowly and keeps touching him until her fingertips reach his neck, bare skin. 

Her pulse is hammering so painfully loud in her ears by now that she doesn't understand what he's mumbling. And she doesn't want to, really. She doesn't want to stop and listen and think and eventually step back in favor of reality and reason. She wants to keep touching him.

His mouth is soft and feels as surprised as he is. For a second all she can concentrate on are his hands tightening around her shoulders, and she's almost ready to draw back now and forget this ever happened before he comes to his senses and pushes her away. But just before she can do that, his mouth and mind adjust and he leans into the kiss.

She feels his moan against her lips when she pushes her tongue into his mouth, and the sound is laced with more surprise, but this time he just rolls with it. His hands slide down to her waist and he draws her closer and helps her crawl into his touch. And then he's suddenly just as eager and hungry as she is and his pretty mouth steals her breath and shuts down her mind and any inhibitions she might have had left.

Heat rushes through her at the way taste joins the heady mix of sensations, and she really can't help herself now so she just eats his mouth and drags her fingers through his hair until he suddenly backs her up against the counter. His thigh pushes between hers, and that takes things to another place and makes her groan. The noise deep in her throat sends a shudder through him, and he pulls back, breaking the kiss.

She doesn't want this to end and she really, really wants to chase his mouth with hers, but he draws a deep breath and seems to be searching for words so she does her best to keep still and wait for him to say something. But her fingers tighten in his hair involuntarily while she waits, and he moans and rests his forehead against hers.

"What just happened?" he whispers, breathless, voiceless, and Ziva finds it hard to concentrate while she still feels his thigh getting to know her like this. And she has no idea what to answer, really.

"I touched you," she offers in the end, trying for casual and not quite succeeding. Her own voice is shaky and almost as rough as his suddenly because his palm moves against her cheek now and his fingers dig into her hair, and she has no idea when that happened. He still presses her against the counter, and he's so disconcertingly close that she suddenly wants to move against him so badly. She doesn't, though, afraid to mishandle this moment, too, and so all that's left to do is wait for him to react.

"Right," he presses out eventually. His breath is a nervous, fluttering rush against her mouth, and she's not sure if she can take this closeness much longer without acting on it. "Right..."

His voice trails off again, and then his fingertips move against the base of her skull and hold her right there while he's thinking again.

She knows that for a moment he thinks about backing off now. She knows him well enough to realize that even as turned on as he is, he wants to step away from that kind of change and go back to the safe and sound part of their everyday life, to the daily routines between them that they can pull off half asleep because they have perfected them over the years. 

Part of her weighs in that option for consideration, too, but it is a quiet, unsure voice, and it's almost inaudible from overuse. And since she hasn't felt as safe and sound for a long time as she does right now, she suddenly tilts her head and flashes him a smile.

"Would you like me to touch you again?" she asks and does her best to keep it light and playful and not scary-changey. And while she waits for his answer, she feels herself get slightly breathless again because he's so warm and heavy against her and she suddenly wants to feel more of that, so much more...

He's pressed up so tight against her now that she can actually feel how his heartbeat picks up speed while his gaze drops to her mouth, and she knows he has never looked at her lips quite like this before. She doesn't want this to be the last time he does it, and she doesn't want him to come to his senses and move away again, and so her fingers tighten in his hair before she even notices it.

And Tony shudders as if that was the very thing that pulled him out of his musings. His eyes come up to meet hers, and suddenly she knows that there has never been a real question about this after all.

"Yes," he breathes out. "Yes, please."

Her skin tightens deliciously with the tickle of his breath and her eyes flutter shut while her imagination begins to wander. Anticipation rushes through her and urges her on, and part of her wants to comply and just lean in and kiss him again before he takes it back. But the part that wants Ziva to go for hard and fast is strangely subdued, and so she just leans into him and concentrates on the sensation of his fingertips moving against the base of her neck.

He really has good, strong hands. She hopes to find out soon if he knows how to use them.

*** *** ***

He doesn't sleep with her that night, although Ziva would have liked him to. They come close a few times, but in the end he always draws back at the last moment because he's too nervous and too confused and five years of not going there are just too massive a wall to tear down in just one night.

He keeps staring at her in a mixture of confusion and awe when she least expects it, and since he's still speechless and doesn't even try in these moments, she isn't sure what's going on in his head. But he does keep kissing her and touching her and he doesn't run away, so she is pretty sure he'll get over his confusion eventually.

Later, when he falls asleep with his arm around her waist and his face buried into her neck, she finds that he holds her so tight that she gets confused herself for a moment, not sure if maybe she got a little more than she bargained for. But just when she thinks about putting some distance between their bodies she hears him mumble her name in his sleep, and for some reason she suddenly doesn't mind his possessiveness all that much.

It takes her longer to come to rest, and while she waits for sleep to kick in she finds that she quite likes running her hands all over him, just to bring up some old memories and make a lot of fresh ones.

Touch might not be the strongest trigger for her but right now it looks as if it might become her favorite one.

*** *** ***

He does sleep with her in the morning, just after she rolls over and opens her eyes to look at him all sleep-mussed and tired. Her hair is a mess when he suddenly digs his fingers into it and grabs her neck to pull her close, and her pulse jumps with excitement when she realizes that he is no longer confused. Just warm and heavy and sleepy, and he keeps looking at her this time as if he just had an epiphany.

She needs to pee halfway through, and later she's responsible when he smacks his head hard on the headboard. She starts to giggle uncontrollably after that until he shuts her up with a kiss. He makes a silly pun while he's inside her, and he comes too soon, and it's by no means perfect. But in some ways - and these, as it turns out, are the ones that matter - in some ways they will both remember it as just that.


End file.
